


The Polite Dance

by devilsadvocate



Series: The Polite Dance and the Dances After [1]
Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Cussing, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Modern AU, Potionless - Freeform, dance au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 09:34:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5158871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilsadvocate/pseuds/devilsadvocate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a rough break-up with her long time boyfriend, Roland, Marianne is looking for a fresh start. She trades her home in Napa for a her sister's apartment in San Francisco. As soon as she gets settled in, Marianne is pulled back to the world of competitive dance after encountering two members of the dance crew, the Dragonflies. Soon after joining, their rivals the Urban Butterflies, propose a bet: the best group gets to claim the new studio downtown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Polite Dance

**Author's Note:**

> The songs used in this story are by no rights mine and belong to their respective owners/writers/producers/singers etc.
> 
> Title- The Polite Dance Song by the Bird and the Bee  
> Chapter one- Maybe by Alina Baraz and Galimaticas

"You _need_ sleep."

"No, I _need_ coffee!"

Marianne lunged past her younger sister into the kitchenette. Dawn yelped in surprise and fell back against the counter. The elder sister cackled in triumph as she poured the dark liquid into her mug. The blonde pouted as she watched Marianne sip at the steaming coffee. The brunette made a face. "Needs something more..." Her hands wandered the cabinets, finally opening the one that contained the glass bottles full of different colored liquids.

"Marianne-"

"I don't wanna hear it, Dawn."

After emptying the remains of a whiskey into her drink, Marianne slipped past Dawn to the living room and shuffled onto the fire escape. She inhaled the cold fall air of their city. As she sipped at her Irish coffee her gold-brown eyes flicked over the old brick apartments and lofts of the neighborhood. The hot liquid warmed her, tendrils of heat twisting through her limbs and core. Marianne hummed contentedly. She leaned into the apartment. Slender fingers extracted a cigarette from the box she kept by the window. After lighting the end of it, she took in a deep breath of the thick smoke. The rising sun's rays illuminated the curling smoke. She smiled. "Perfect."

 

The sun was hanging above the tall apartment buildings by the time she crawled back into the sparsely decorated living room. A note was attached to the window.

_Marianne-_

_Sunny and I have headed to the bakery. You’re welcome to come take a shift anytime. If you plan on staying home, please keep it down. The neighbors have been complaining and I’d prefer to stay on their good side. ~~They’re a little scary. One of them is anyway.~~_

_Love you,_

_Dawn_

__

Marianne smiled at the note, taking it down and setting it next to her phone. The brunette picked up the smart phone and turned it on. Her screen displayed several texts from Roland. _Swipe. Swipe. Swipe._ A text from a friend from her old dance crew. Her thumb paused on the text before- _swipe_. She tapped in her code (2645, if you must know) and opened her music. High volume, connected to portable speakers. _Maybe_ by Alina Baraz  & Galimatias, a song she knew well. _Tap_.

_“...What do I do when there’s too much of me, too little of you? What can I say when I know you’re not here to stay? I can’t explain something I don’t understand. Why did I let this get out of hand?”_

__

She took a big breath and closed her eyes, allowing the music to wrap itself around her like a cloak. _C'mon, Marianne. You haven't danced since...him. Just...GO._ With the first chorus, Marianne took a step into the music.

“ _Maybe I’ll get you out of my head_.” A slender hand ran through her hair and down her neck. “ _Maybe I’ll forget all the things you_ _said_.” Her arm extended to her left then returned to her lips as the song continued. “ _Lies on your lips but there’s love in your eyes. Maybe I’ll forget you some other time_.” She sank to a squat then rolled up as Alina crooned, “ _Why do I let you cross the line every time?”_ The brunette’s toe drew an invisible line in the carpet _. “Why do I stay if I know you’re not mine?”_

__

Instant knocking interrupted her improvised routine. Marianne sighed and turned down the music. She adjusted herself during the walk, running a hand through her hair, fixing her big t-shirt and pulling down her shorts. She took a steadying breath and threw open the door. “Look, Roland, I don’t know how you found my sister’s place but I am tired of your texts and calls and I’d appreciate it if you just lost my fucking number. I-”

It was not Roland who stood in the doorway. Instead were a pair of people, a man and a woman. The woman was darker and gorgeously round. Her hair was kinky and short and she had divinely pale eyes. She was (obnoxiously) chewing gum, arms folded, weight shifted to her right to almost lean on her companion. He was short and incredibly pale with brown-orange hair and sweet hazel eyes. He was attempting to look tough while his friend effortlessly pulled off the look. Marianne mentally kicked herself for not checking the peephole. _The neighbors._  After recovering, she spoke. “Is there a problem?”

The woman raised a styled eyebrow. “Yes, there is. The entire level can hear your music. While it’s very nice, I’m not sure everyone appreciates it as much as you.” Her voice was deep and husky, like she smoked constantly. 

Marianne smiled as pleasantly as she could. ”I’m sorry. I’m a dancer and I prefer to dance to loud music. Helps me get involved.”  

The small man’s face lit up as he broke his tough character and he tapped his partner’s wrist. “Hey, she likes to dance, Stuff! Maybe she can join-”

“Shut up, Thang,” Stuff hissed. She turned her white-blue eyes to Marianne. “Look, this is the second time this has happened. Next time, we’ll go to the landlord, got me?”

Marianne nodded, leaning into the doorway. “Yeah, I got you.”

Stuff gave her a grunt and replied, “...If you like your music that loud, find a studio. At least there you can get away with-”

Thang interjected. “She can go to our studio! I’ll text the boss now!” He reached into his (way too tight) jeans and extracted his phone. Stuff snatched it out of his hand and shoved it into her shorts pocket. She flashed a smile at Marianne and walked away. 

 

“Oh, you think that’ll stop me?” Thang challenged. Stuff just snorted and rolled her eyes as they continued walking towards their apartment next door, bickering all the way there. 

 

Marianne watched them until they disappeared behind their door before closing her own. “Maybe I _should_ find a studio,” she muttered, shuffling away from the door. Her eyes darted to the clock on the wall. _9:47_.

“Might as well take a shift.” She dashed up the stairs, throwing on something presentable, then she was out the door.

.

.

.

Bog had just finished up in the studio, after helping one of his fellows go over a dance he had created for his wedding. Twig was going to be gone for half month starting tomorrow and they were going to be down a man. He sighed as he waved good-bye to his friend. He wouldn’t be able to attend due to a little (big, no, huge, no, GARGANTUAN) romantic issue with Twig's (soon to be) wife's sister. A long hand ran through spiky black hair at the though of her. 

“Maybe I’ll send them a...a CD?” he mused as he locked up the Dark Forest Dance Studio. “No, no, tha’d be too cheesy.” He was still grumbling to himself as a motorcycle pulled into a parking space in front of the bakery (Three Little Birds, wasn’t it?). He turned towards the ruckus, ready to give a shpeel about respect of the silence.  The rider took off their- her - helmet and set it down on the seat of the bike.

 

He froze. The woman was gorgeous. The pixie cut, the brown-gold eyes, her strong shoulders, and slim body. Bog was mesmerized. He dropped his keys. His face melted into an expression of regret. Her eyes fell on him and he almost lost his feet. An eyebrow raised, she walked quickly into the bakery, shedding her leather jacket. He blinked then shook himself and tugged himself back to the door.

 

“She's just some girl, Bog, no need to git excited.” He continued talking to himself as he finished locking up the studio. His long legs carried him to his little car. He lit a cigarette, putting it between his lips, and took out his phone. A text from Thang. _Tap_.

_srry i wld hv txted u sner but stuff took my phn. thrs a wmn nxt dr wh0 dnces. i thnk u shld ask her 2 jn. c u s00n._

__

Bog squinted at the text, confounded by the overuse of short hand. After a moment, he tossed the phone and the unlit cigarette into the passenger seat and drove off towards the apartment complex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little something. Prepare yourself for cliches and ridiculous amounts of incomplete and/or basic sentences as I attempt to portray dance through words. 
> 
> I hope everyone enjoyed! 
> 
> Love to all, don't forget to comment and/or leave a kudos! <3


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